


I Need You

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean x Reader, F/M, Smut, dean fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: You screwed up, Sam got hurt, Dean’s pissed and you aren’t handling it very well. Dean/reader one shot, angst and smut





	

You sit on your bed, the world on your shoulders, pressing you down, crushing you until you can barely breathe under its weight. How could you have been so careless? So stupid? You are so overwhelmed with guilt and self-loathing that you can’t even cry.

Sam is still unconscious. Dean won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you, other than ordering you to your room, that is. He wouldn’t let you help with Sam, wouldn’t let you unload the weapons from Baby’s trunk, wouldn’t let you go after first aid supplies. He had just pointed down the hall, his jaw working, and said, “Just go to your room.” His voice had been ominously quiet, almost vibrating with a barely-contained fury that even one sound of protest from you would have unleashed, so you had just obeyed.

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there when you hear sounds from down the hall, the sounds of a struggle and then Dean’s voice. “Easy, Sammy. I gotcha. You’re okay. You’re home." 

You find yourself standing outside Sam’s door without really knowing how you got there. Sam is lying back on his pillow, his skin sickly pale, his eyes closed as Dean sits close by, bent over his brother, working at the horrible wounds on his neck. You can see them from the doorway, and the bright crimson soaked into the towel Dean has shoved beneath as he cleans and stitches Sam’s torn flesh. You gag once, then run, bile rising in your throat, barely making it to the bathroom in time to retch into the sink.

You look up into the mirror, your eyes dark and lifeless, your reflection a blur. When your vision clears, you see the blood spattered over you, soaked into your shirt. You raise a hand to grasp the fabric, and your mouth opens in a silent cry as you see that it is also covered in blood. Sam’s blood is everywhere on you - your clothes, your hands, even your hair - and tremors shake your body as that realization hits you, horror washing over you like an ice bath.

Minutes, hours, maybe days later you are sitting outside in the dead grass, shivering, your arms hugged around your body. You want to get up, to move, to run as fast and as far as you can, but your legs won’t move. You hear Dean’s voice, sharp-edged with panic, growing louder, shouting your name. Then the bunker door slams open against the side of the building, you hear his boots heavy on the stairs, and a quiet curse.  He comes closer, his hand touches you but you flinch away, a soft, frightened cry escaping your lips. "Y/N. It’s okay. It’s just me. Come on, sweetheart, you need to come inside.”  

He helps you stand, trying to put an arm around you, but you jerk away, stumbling down the small slope away from him. He doggedly follows you and sweeps you up into his arms, your feeble flailing useless against his strong arms. “Stop fighting me, Y/N,” he growls, and you obey. You just hang there in his arms as he carries you back into the bunker, turning awkwardly to pull the door closed before holding you tight against him as he heads down the stairs.   
He sets you slowly to your feet, watching in concern as you sway, your eyes dilated and unfocused. “Sam’s blood. It’s everywhere. It’s all over me. All over me,” you whimper, holding your shaking hands out in front of you.  

When you are aware of your surroundings again, you hear water running, and Dean is in front of you, reaching for the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head, and you stand, docile, as he takes off the remainder of your clothes. He guides you into the shower after sticking one arm in to make sure it’s not too hot, standing you beneath the spray, and you watch rivulets of water cascade over your skin, gradually fading from pink to crystal clear. Dean gently washes your hair, then your body, removing the outward stains from your sight. When you’re clean, he shuts off the water, drying you and wrapping you in a huge fluffy towel before leading you to your room.

He sits you on your bed, rifling through your drawers until he finds clean pajama pants and a worn old t-shirt, helping you into them, then grabbing a blanket from the chest against the wall and wrapping it around you. “Come here,” he says quietly, an arm around your shoulders, and you allow him to urge you along, neither resisting or helping. When he gets you near Sam’s door, you stop, pulling back, shaking your head.

“No, no, no…” you keep repeating as he tries to get you through the door, near-panic on your face at the sight of Sam lying on the bed in front of you. Dean locks his arms around you and lifts you from your feet, carrying you in front of him until you are at Sam’s bedside.

Sam opens his eyes and looks at you, a weak smile curving his lips. “Hey, Short Stack,” he rasps, and you slowly relax your body, allowing Dean to set you back on your feet. 

“See, he’s gonna be okay. Aren’t you, Sammy?” Dean speaks softly, moving one hand to your shoulder. You feel your face crumple, your eyes overflowing as you burst into tears, finally able to cry.

“Awww, Y/N, come here.” Sam holds out his arm, and you crawl up next to him, letting him pull you tight against his chest as you sob.

“This was my fault! I almost got you killed!” You are inconsolable in that moment, and Sam is cradling you against his side, holding you tight. You force yourself to calm down after a few seconds, and you feel Dean’s hand brushing the hair back from your face.  

“We should let Sammy rest, sweetheart. Come on.” You nod, not even able to meet Sam’s eyes as you sit up carefully and let Dean usher you out the door. “You get some rest, call me if you need something, okay?” he says quietly, and Sam answers with a wan smile before closing his eyes with a sigh.

You walk down the hall to your room, Dean close behind you, and you stand there inside the door, your arms folded around your waist, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing. The guilt, the remorse, it’s tearing you up inside, and you feel sick. Dean’s hand is on your shoulder, and then his forearm around your chest, holding you against him as his lips touch the crown of your head.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Y/N,” he says softly.

“You don’t,” you snap back, not angry at him, just lashing out, pissed at yourself and unable to relieve the horrible pressing weight in your heart.  
A bitter little laugh forces its way from his throat. “Sweetheart, I’ve screwed things up more than anybody.”

You pull away from him, moving to plop down on the bed and throwing the blanket off your shoulders, looking up at him, eyes brimming with tears. “When you screw up, Dean, you hurt yourself. You jump in without thinking sometimes, but it’s always to save somebody else. You put yourself in harm’s way, you don’t get the people you care about killed.” You drop your eyes to the floor, unable to look him in the face any longer. “I know you’re pissed, and disappointed in me, and you’ll probably never forgive me for putting Sam in so much danger. I don’t blame you. I should have done a better job of checking that room, I knew I should have when I did it, I just didn’t think… It was just a little closet, I didn’t think there would be anyone hiding in that small space, and I didn’t even bother to use my flashlight. Just opened the door, peeked in quick and shut it. It was a stupid mistake, and he almost died because of it. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, Dean. I’ll just pack up and get out of here so you don’t have to…”

“Y/N, shut up.” The tone of his voice cut you off, and you looked up to see his green eyes flashing, his jaw clenched. “Just shut up and listen.” He stared at you until your mouth closed and he knew you had acknowledged his orders, then continued, a quiet intensity in his voice that shook you to your foundation. “Yeah, you screwed up. Was it bad? Yeah, it was bad. But Sam’s gonna be okay. And even if he wasn’t, even if he had died…” You watch as he swallows, hard, unable to continue for a moment, and your tears begin to overflow. “We would have had to help each other through it. You’re a part of this family, whether you accept that or not, I don’t give a fuck. I’m telling you, you are a part of this family. Sam’s my brother, and, yeah… I need him. I do.” He was moving closer, going down on one knee right in front of you, taking your chin in his hand as he stared intently into your eyes. “But I need you, too. I need you. So don’t you go quitting on me, Y/N.” More tears cascade down your cheeks as you see his lip quiver just the slightest bit before he chews on it, his eyes closed, regaining control over himself. When he looks at you again, it tears at your soul, and his voice is a harsh whisper when he speaks. “I need you." 

Your hand raises to cover his as he moves it to the side of your face, and he bends closer to press his lips against yours, his emotion vibrating through you. A soft sob forces its way between your lips, and then he slants his mouth over yours, the tip of his tongue touching your lips briefly before you open to him, the taste of Dean and tears mingling on your tongue and the tether on your control snapping completely. 

Suddenly you’re straddling his lap on the floor, one of his arms a steel band around your back and the other hand wrapped up in your hair, forcing you closer as your kiss becomes ravenous, almost violent.

Your shirt is torn from your body, then you are crushed against him again as you continue to devour each other as if possessed. He leans you back against the bed  for an exquisite few moments as he nips and sucks at you, leaving his mark on the soft skin of your left breast as if laying claim to you.

He stands you to your feet, and you put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, your legs too shaky and weak to support you on their own. He raises up far enough to rip open his jeans and pull them, with his boxer briefs, down to his knees, then reaches for your pajama pants. He yanks them down, letting you step out of them, and then he pulls you back down astraddle his lap, running his fingers down through your folds to make sure you’re ready for him. You meet his eyes as he puts his hands on your waist, positioning you over him, the head of his cock pressing against you, and at the affirmation in your eyes, he plunges in to his base as you gasp, your fingernails digging into his biceps.

There is no holding back from either of you, the desperate need too much to control, and you meet his every thrust, grinding against him, your head thrown back as his arms hold you tight, so tight it’s hard to breathe. You cry out as everything becomes bright and sharp, and an intense orgasm slams through you, your breath stuttering as you spasm around him, drawing a loud groan from his throat. He takes your hips in a bruising grip, driving up into you until a low, shuddering growl vibrates through you and he bites down on the slope of your neck as he comes, sending another powerful aftershock through you as you tremble around him.  

You are wrapped around each other like yin and yang, over and around and part of each other, unable and unwilling to move. Dean’s face is buried in your neck, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, your face resting on top of his head as his arms hold you close. Neither of you move until a shiver runs through you, eliciting a grunt from him, and he slowly lifts you from him, sitting you back on the edge of the bed.  

He stands, pulling his clothing back into place, then grabbing the blanket to wrap around your shoulders before he sits next to you, pulling you into his arms again before laying back on the bed. Silence reigns for a few moments, and then he nuzzles his face into your hair, squeezing you tight. "I need you, Y/N. Sam needs you. You’re not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't new, but somehow when I posted my fics over to AO3, I missed this one...


End file.
